Grains of Sand
by Ashley A
Summary: BTVS season twothree.


Author's note:

Written for the Back to High School Ficathon.

BTVS season two/three

Disclaimer:  Not mine.  Duh.

Enjoy!

            Jenny Calendar's heels tap anxiously on the floor as she gazes out the window of her classroom, the bright sun glaring into the school.

            She figures they don't call it Sunnydale for nothing, and hates it right about now.

            The slender redhead in the front row raises her hand.  Jenny snaps to attention, and responds.

            "Yes, Willow?"

            "Uh, Miss Calendar?  Can I talk to you?  Approach the bench?" Willow asks, then smiles.  "Hey, I made a court related joke," then drops her smile when Miss Calendar just nods.  "Too much Law and Order," she mumbles to herself.

            "What is it Willow?  Are you doing all right with the assignment?" Jenny asks, her arms crossed in front of her chest.  Willow hesitates, then goes for it.

            "Are you doing okay?  Cause we've noticed, well, that you haven't been around the library lately, and well, Mr. Giles has been more agitated than normal, and he's pacing a lot, and er…he's been polishing his glasses so much I'm afraid they may disenegrate into the original grains of sand," Willow bursts, then covers her mouth.  Luckily none of the other students have paid any attention, and she turns back to her teacher.

            Jenny sighs, and uncrosses her arms.  She sits on the edge of her desk, and her eyebrows draw together.

            "No offense, Willow, but my relationship with Mr. Giles really isn't any of your business.  Besides, I am quite busy.  Samhain is coming up, and my Technopagan group will be heavily involved this year."

            Willow blushes, and waves her hands about in the air.

            "Okay.  Point taken.  We were just…worried."

            Jenny nods.  "Thank you for your concern.  But I'll let you know the next time I need relationship advice," she tells the younger woman gently, and Willow returns to her seat, embarrassed.

            Miss Calendar turns her head to the window again, and tries not to think about Rupert Giles pacing and polishing his glasses to death.

            It's a loosing battle.

            The library is for once empty of all Scoobies, and Jenny tiptoes slowly in, hoping to avoid the person she's actually come to see.  No sign of him.  She breathes a sigh of relief, turning to go.

            "Jenny?" comes the voice, with the opening of his office door.

            She winces slightly, and revolves on one heel to face him.

            "Rupert.  Hello.  I thought you weren't here, due to the lack of children," she states, and he puts down the teacup he's holding, approaching her.

            "Ah, yes.  Well, Buffy is training with Angel, and the others are out getting 'caffeinated' as Xander put it.  How are you?" he blurts, then looks down, rubbing his hands together absently.

            "Fine.  I just…Willow spoke with me today," she tells him, and he looks back up.  His eyes shine without the heavy glass to impede them, and she finds herself again drawn to him.

            "Oh?" he asks, cocking his head to one side.

            "She said you were pacing a lot, and that she was afraid your glasses would be polished to their original particles of sand," she answers, and he coughs, sputtering a bit.

            She hides a smile behind her hand.

            "She did.  Well, I shall have to speak to her, my behavior is none of her affair, they always do get too involved in adult business," he mutters, stepping away from her.  She follows him, laying a hand on his tweed covered shoulder.

            He turns, questions visible in his countenance.

            "It's all right, Rupert.  Don't blame her.  She's just concerned.  They all look up to you, you know," she says softly, and he blows out a breath he hasn't realized he's been holding.

            "Yes.  Well, I apologize for her prying.  I shall have to give her more research to do, to keep her mind off other things," he replies.

            Jenny shakes her head.  "Rupert, it's okay.  I should have spoken to you earlier.  This business with Rayne…" she stops, and shivers slightly.

            His face falls, and he drops into a chair at the large mahogany table.  "I am so sorry about that, Jenny.  I can't tell you how sorry I am," he says, his voice low and strained.

            She feels for him, she does.

            But he hadn't been the one possessed by the demon.  She had.  And he hadn't been the one to have almost been killed.  She had.  If it hadn't been for Angel's quick thinking, she probably would be dead.

            And that's what makes her duty so hard.  She shakes her head, brushing that thought away.

            "Rupert, I know you are.  And I believe you.  But I think there are some things about us, about both our pasts, that we can't ignore.  What's going to happen the next time Ethan Rayne shows up?  More demons?  More spells?  Putting the civilian children in danger again?  How many times does he have to come back for you to realize what you did was wrong?"

            She regrets it the instant it comes out.

            He regards her cooly for a moment, then stands.

            "I realize it every day, Jenny.  That tattoo will remind me every day.  Seeing Buffy's face, remembering her fear that Angel would be permanantly hurt will remind me.  Seeing you pass me in the halls, without a glance, that will remind me every day," he says in a monotone.

            Hurt wells up from her gut, and she reaches out a hand to him.  He pulls away.

            "I…I'm sorry, Rupert.  I didn't mean it like that," she tells him, sorrow underlining her words.  Will things ever be easy for her?  She thinks not.

            "It's all right, Jenny.  You have every reason to say them.  I had no intention of dragging you into this, I promise you that.  But it happened, and he's gone, but believe me, the next time I see Ethan Rayne, there will be more than just words spoken."

            She takes a step back at the look on his face.  Ripper is there, boiling just beneath the surface.

            "We all have our demons," she says simply.

            _Mine being my family, and their dogged persecution of a man who's suffered enough._

"We do," he says, and reaches for his now cold tea.

            "I hope I'll see you again, but if you need some time, I understand," he tells her.  A glimmer of hope crosses his features, and she wishes with all her might that she could assuage his fears.

            "I'll let you know," she answers, and his face gets that hangdog expression she's seen too much lately.  He nods.

            "Take care of yourself, Rupert," she says, and forces her feet to carry her body out of the library.

            The doors swing shut behind her, and she curses the Hellmouth and her life for bringing this on her.

            The last thing she had wanted to do in coming here was to hurt people.  She was here to watch Angel, and report back to her family.  That's all.

            But she's succeeded in doing the unthinkable; falling for a man who's only capable of hurting her and being hurt himself.  Her life circumstances always seem to be sure of that.

            Her heels click on the tile floor, and she imagines Rupert pacing the library, polishing his glasses, and being alone.

            She speeds up, putting as much distance between herself and happiness as possible.

            One year later.

            Rupert Giles places the flowers on her grave, and stands in the bright sunshine, staring downwards, not really seeing the words carved there in stone.

            Jennifer Calendar.

            He had loved her so much.  Loves her still.

            His mind spirals back to all the things they had been through together, and how unlikely it will be that he'll ever find anyone else that would accept and understand his crazy life.

            He thinks of Angel, and how the demon had stolen his love from him.  And he thinks of his Slayer, and how she had had to stab the love of her life in the gut, while bleeding for him in her soul.  To save the world.

            He doesn't know if he could be that brave.

             His arm itches; he rubs it absently, and feels the brief heat from the skin.  The mark that's still there.  The mark that still holds power, regardless of where or even if Eyghon is still alive.

            He thinks of Jenny's possession by the demon, and the weeks it took for them to finally reconcile.

            He thinks of Ethan Rayne, the fool who had brought all this to Sunnydale.

            No, that's not right.  He himself was one of those fools.

            Ethan had suceeded in making a fool out of him again, and with such a triffling thing, really.

            Chocolate.

            Giles feels Ripper there, under his skin, and a sharp pain stabs him in the arm, where his tattoo is.

            He suddenly understands the fight Angel had put up with every day.  The demon was always there, and always would be.

            A dark rage sweeps over Giles, and he spins on his heel, heading out of the cemetary.

            The flowers he has brought drop over, their bright yellow petals sinking into the muddy ground.

            A private plane sits on the runway at the Sunnydale airport, and Ethan Rayne prepares to board.

            He's definitely had it with this little burg, the Slayer, and the psychotic Mayor.  No more deals with anyone who even mentions the word "Sunnydale."

            "Ethan," a voice come from behind him, and he jumps and curses, spinning around.

            "Ripper.  Thought you might come.  How are you?  Any ill effects of too many sweets?  How's that lovely Joyce woman? Are you-" he gets out before Giles' fist hits him square in the jaw, knocking him back against the fuselage of the small plane.

            He laughs, while wiping the blood that has dribbled down his chin away with his fingers.

            "Now, now Rupert.  We must play nicely with one another," he says, a crooked grin cavorting across his face.  Giles has murder in his eyes, and for a second, Ethan Rayne is deathly afraid of the man across from him.  The man he grew up with.

            This man staring at him now,  who he doesn't know at all.

            "Not this time, Ethan.  You've caused me and my town enough trouble," the Watcher spits, and Rayne shakes his head.

            "Your town?  My my, you've taken up with the Colonials, haven't you?"

            Giles takes the few steps that separate them, and pokes his finger into the other man's chest.

            "Do not change the subject.  I owe you.  You've given me nothing but grief.  I was easy on you before.  I let you live last night.  Now I'm beginning to regret that descision."

            Giles' eyes are empty.  Ethan backs away just a little further.

            "You brought Eyghon here.  You endangered my Slayer, her friends, mere children! and you hurt someone that I cared deeply about.  Now you've managed to hurt us again, even if your little get rich quick scheme failed.  You are not getting away with it.  Not this time."

            Ethan scoffs a laugh at the man, which quickly trickles away when Giles' pulls a short but deadly sharp dagger from beneath his sleeve and drives the point under Ethan's chin, nicking him just slightly.

            "Giles!  No!" comes the breathy shout, and the two men whirl to see Buffy Summers, the Slayer, running pell mell toward her watcher, waving her arms.

            "He's not worth it!" she yells, and as Giles is distracted and befuddled by the arrival of Buffy, Ethan turns and makes a beeline up the stairs of the airplane, pulling the door closed behind him.

            He knows when to take advantage of a situation.

            "Thank you, Miss Summers," he murmurs, and taps the pilot on the shoulder, who nods, and begins the taxiing process.

            "Giles!" Buffy screeches, halting her run in front of her Watcher.  "What the hell are you doing?  Were you trying to kill him?"

            The older man's face is full of dark fury, and Buffy's only seen him like this once before.

            The night Angelus had killed Jenny Calendar, and she had had to pull him out of the burning factory.

            "Buffy.  How dare you interfere!" he says, his voice cracking, the pitch low and thready.

            "Interfere?  I'm trying to help you!  You can't go around killing humans!  No matter how evil they are.  You taught me that," she says, words returning to a less frantic tone.  She approaches Giles, and he lowers his arm, letting the knife clatter to the ground.

            "Please.  He's not worth it.  Trust me, he'll get his.  I'll make sure of it," she adds darkly.  She touches her Watcher's arm, and he looks at her.

            She's relieved to see some of the old Giles in there.

            He shakes his head suddenly, his eyes clearing.

            "Yes, yes…you're right, of course," he says, sounding defeated.  "It's just that, he's done so much to us.  I couldn't let it go."

            "You have to, Giles.  You have to.  It's the only way to be.  You know this," she tells him.  He nods slightly.

            "No one hates him any more than I do, or has many more reasons than I do," Buffy states.  "He's the worst kind of trouble maker.  He has no ulterior motives except to make money or cause trouble for troubles sake, you know?  Man, what I wouldn't give for a normal old evil guy, who's in it for the glory of his ancient snake god, or someone who just wants to bring about the end of the world," she muses.  "Now those guys are my favorites.  Black and white, straight up evil.  Easy to kill, no muss, no fuss.

            "But when you bring morality into it, the lines blur, you know?  And we're the ones who have to protect the status quo.  We have to be the ones who are better than the bad guys.  Cause we can be.  And we know that's the right side to be on."

            She takes his arm, and begins to lead him away.

            "Buffy?" he asks suddenly.

            "Yeah, Watcher mine?"

            "Thank you."

            She smiles crookedly at him, and again he's reminded just how lucky he is to have this brave young woman in his life.

            "No problem.  I'm here to help."

            Giles allows his Slayer to lead him away from the airport, and consciously leaves the glittering dagger on the ground where it has fallen.

            He knows, deep in his heart, however, that Ripper's not gone.

            He's just sated, for now.

            The librarian is in charge now, but once the tweed and the glasses and the books begin to itch and feel like a false skin, he'll be back.

            And the grains of sand that hide him will be shaken off.

            He promises this to Jenny Calendar.

            And to himself.

Fin.


End file.
